Crossing Over
by SpitefulHope
Summary: Can one Auror save one ghost, his family, and the world as he knows it? Like a Moebius strip-- from the end to the beginning... and back again. John Edward, eat your heart out. This is so not the Age of Aquarius.
1. Catalyst

Copyright belongs to JKR and certainly not me... things would be sooo much different if these guys resided in my twisted little mind. Heh.

Comments welcome, flames too, but please bear in mind that they will all be scoffed at, then shared with my friends, scoffed at some more, then posted on my LJ. Have fun!

I wrote this for Em in the beginning and she knows who she is. That's what's important. I continued for her and CourtMonster. Go you guys.

And... we're off! (Which should be readily apparent.)

* * *

The dark haired boy dives, appearing out of no where, his strong arms wrapping around the shoulders of the man he looked just like. The surprising weight of him takes James to the floor as the door he'd been about to open bursts off its hinges. Shoving the man down and covering the fighting Auror bodily, voice low and insistent. "Please! Stop! Listen to me! James please!"  
  
The boy growls softly and whispers the words to bind the older man, focusing hard to make the wandless magic work. "I swear to merlin.. if you've made me too late..." He growls in his strangely hollow voice, climbing to his feet and heading for the stairs, pausing as a gods-awful scream rends the air.  
  
Green eyes widen in realization, breath catching as he barrels up the stairs, shaking off the shock. He summons the crystal orb he'd picked up a Dimension away in an alley he wasn't supposed to visit, hoping it would work as advertized.  
  
He lurches through the nursery door, screaming, "NO!" He stumbles, losing his feet a moment as the curse rebounds off the baby, the house around them seeming to shudder.  
  
The young man keeps his feet through sheer will and stumbles further into the room as the Dark Lord's body crumbles. He gasps the words to catch the fleeing spirit of Voldemort, the orb glowing brightly then winking out like a snuffed star, the dust that was left of He-Who-Musn't-be-Named's body sifting to the floor.  
  
Green eyes well with tears as the former Gryffindor crumples to his knees, staring at the body of Lily Evans-Potter, beautiful red hair lying in a halo about her somehow peaceful face. She'd died knowing she was saving her son.  
  
Shoulders shaking, he moans like a lost spirit, salt-water sliding down his cheeks likes drops of mercury, looking up at the man he'd left in the foyer, voice hollow and lost. "Too late..."  
  
The Wizarding World would never forget the day. They would always praise the Boy Who Lived and the Unknown Savior.  
  
James Potter would always claim publicly to have not seen the person who'd saved his life, he didn't even tell his two remaining dear friends the Truth.  
  
The truth that he'd slipped the binding charms easily and followed the familiar stranger upstairs and found him weeping over his wife's body. Apologies had been profuse from the green-eyed boy, who was stained and mud-spattered and looked as though he'd just been in a war and not a minor spat with an Evil Would-be Overlord.  
  
And... they'd comforted each other. James taking solace in his sleeping son, peaceful despite the new scar; the boy crying it out into exhaustion, falling asleep in James' arms, face pale and silvery. James had left him in their bed in a strang sleep-like state as he made his reports and calls... telling the world what had happened.  
  
After all it had been his son who'd saved them by some miracle of magic. Harry had managed to cross the boundaries of time and space... had come back to set himself free-- and ended up trapped in a worse position.**  
**


	2. Compulsion

Previous Disclaimers apply. See Chapter One: Catalyst.

* * *

Harry smiles, looking down at the small boy playing with some magical blocks on the floor. He sighs softly, wistfully, lips never losing their curve.  
  
The dark head swivels as the front door handle jiggles and he chuckles softly, crossing the room to go open it. "Hello James. Forget your keys again?" Green eyes crinkle as he grins, teasing the tired Auror.  
  
"Yeah.. rough day... they're probably on my desk. Under paperwork," he frowns darkly for a moment, taking off his outer robe and loosening his tie as he comes further into the room, smiling down at the toddler on the floor. "He wasn't too much trouble, was he? He's getting overly curious..."  
  
"Nope. Never gives me trouble, I've told you that."  
  
James nods, picking his son up from the rubble of bricks, eyes saddening as his mind offersimage of the rubble Godric's Hollow had been fairly reduced to by the aftershock of the Dark Lord's passing.  
  
A year later... and it was still difficult. Thank his stars for Harry. Remus and Sirius were still searching for Peter Pettigrew-- they knew that he wasn't dead despite his last-ditch effort (the results of which had taken out 12 muggles in the crossfire). No body... no dead wizard. A finger wasn't enough for those two, and James couldn't blame them.  
  
But Harry was here to help him with Harry. Brown eyes flick to the image of himself at 17, gaze softening as the Gryffindor goes about cooking him dinner.  
  
It was odd to see his own son as he'd look 15 years in the future... He claimed his own future hadn't been changed. He'd only succeeded in 'creating an alternate version of reality as he knew it'... Said he'd had to try something.  
  
James could believe his explanation. After all, he still existed and the universe had not yet come grinding to a halt from an inoperable paradox.  
  
But it was still wierd. Had to be odd for the young man in question as well.  
  
He chuckles, taking Harry into the dining room and setting him in the highchair. "You're so domestic, it's odd."  
  
"Only because you haven't seen it before," comes the automatic reply. His reply for James' every comment on the oddity of his existence. This time, though, he had more.  
  
"I think the phrase goes... 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'" Green eyes sparkle, his effervescent cheerfulness dispite his situation evident.  
  
James laughs, shaking his head. "Spending your nights reading, then?"  
  
Dark hair shifts as Harry nods, handing the other wizard the baby's dinner. "I sneak into libraries... you two don't need me here... so I go out." He shrugs, shoulders rolling in their black robes, James noting that the colors on him were bold today.  
  
His usual streaks of silver of dark grey were matted out, taking on the tones of mud and... blood if he weren't incorrect.  
  
James ruffles his son's hair, eyes leaving the wizard to look at his son. Maybe he should take the Weasley's up on their offer to help him with little Harry... If he had some spare time he could help the person who'd helped him. Reciprocate...  
  
"What's wrong?" Asks Harry, setting a spot for James at the table. "You're out of milk, by the way."  
  
James smirks, "I bet you never thought that all your Hogwarts training would go to pot so you could be a nanny and a housewife."  
  
The other barely flinches, green eyes dimming only slightly. "No... but I don't mind. It's better than what I would have had. No one here knows I exist. I had a hard enough time in school being gawked at. Can you imagine what would happen now?"  
  
The auror shakes his head, watching the colors dim on him as his emotions shift. They grade back upward, brightening out as he goes back to work, putting James' plate out then starting on the dishes.  
  
"True. I guess it would be hard... Being--"  
  
"The Boy Who Lived." Harry whispers softly, hands on the edge of the counter, knuckles whiter than usual. The wood of the countertop makes a soft groaning sound, and he releases, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I miss them sometimes... My friends. I want to know who made it."  
  
James nods, watching his 'guest'. "Well... can't you go back?"  
  
Harry shrugs, "I haven't tried... I don't see why I couldn't. But..."  
  
"You're scared."  
  
Green eyes narrow, anger filling the room then draining out. "Yeah. I am." He sighs, voice a whisper.  
  
The Auror shrugs, eating and speaking with Harry until it was time to put the baby to bed. He picks the child up and heads for the stairs, looking over his shoulder as the spectre of a young man sitting in the window seat. "You could always go look in on them... and come back."  
  
The Auror heads upstairs without another word, tucking his son in and giving it some thought. Maybe he'd let Molly take little Harry for a while... and he could find a spell to slip over to Harry's world.... He knew it had been done. He wanted to help.  
  
Even if he the person in need was just the ghost of a 17 year old War Hero. /drabble 


	3. Conscription

Again, all previous apply. Kudos to any who guessed, way to go, cookies to you all! (Though, sadly, not Echo's cookies. huff)

* * *

Sweet Merlin... he'd done it. He'd managed to step into another world... and it looked a whole bloody lot like his own.  
  
That was fine, he'd been expecting it. Though... according to the wizard he'd gotten the spell from, there were infinite possibilities-- like worlds without shrimp.  
  
He'd wandered a bit. He'd admit to that. But he'd blame it on the need to get his bearings, make certain he had the right place-- never on a fear of seeing what had happened. And... after sitting in a pub listening to the reports of 'terrorists striking in Scotland' and odd explosions involving 'peat gas' and 'weather balloons' in the muggle news he'd decided he had the right one.  
  
Time to head to Hogwarts... talk to Dumbledore. The man knew everything... he should be able to help him deal with a ghost. Though they were likely to think him one.  
  
Hogwarts wasn't as James expected it, really.  
  
One year later and the others were still rebuilding. Classes had been suspended for the interim. That alone told him how bad it was.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he heads up the path to the school from Hogsmeade, cloak pulled tight about him in the chill. He could do this... he was a grown auror. He could go back to a school that thought him dead by years and talk to one person.  
  
It was harder than expected because Fate likes things difficult.  
  
The big clue should have been the day starting so well, sunny bright with no clouds, just a chill scottish wind and a bit of mud telling of rain the night before.  
  
It went downhill from there.  
  
Harry'd neglected to tell him that Snivellus-- err. Severus Snape worked at the school, and that he was an excellent shot with a hex.  
  
Good thing James was still better. Otherwise he might not have all his limbs at the moment.  
  
Peeking over the edge of a large piece of rubble-- apparently a tower had fallen-- he calls out "I'm just here to talk! Listen for a moment please!"  
  
The Slytherin stepped out of the doorway then, revealing a too-thin man in heavy dark robes, leaning on a cane, wand still at ready. "You made a mistake in coming here wearing that guise!" The familiar voice sounded... tired.  
  
"Look Snivellus," he snaps, "I'm here to talk about Harry."  
  
"Fan-bloody-tastic. He's dead. What else do you wish to know?" comes the scathing reply, the darker man shifting, robes flaring enough to let the metal stabilizing one leg catch light for the briefest of instances.  
  
"Snape... I need to talk to Albus. I'm here on Harry's behalf. He couldn't come himself... so I did." He speaks, not even willing the wizard to believe him as it wouldn't help.  
  
Clattering footsteps fortold the arrival of others, and James sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, mussing the unruly locks even more. "Bloody hells," He mumbles peeking out and catching sight of red hair. Weasleys.  
  
"Okay, Weasleys sound off please?" He calls, back to the stones, facing away from them.  
  
Murmuring comes then, the new arrivals confering with Snape.  
  
"Got him!" A female voice shouts, followed by "_Expelliarimus!_"  
  
James has a brief second to look up before his wands flips into the red-headed girl on a broomstick's hand and he goes flipping over his cover to land in a heap in the grass. "Hells," he mumbles, sitting up and adjusting his glasses, glaring up at several wands and amused black eyes. "You enjoyed that too much Snivellus." He growls, hands staying where they could see.  
  
"Who are you and why are you here?" comes the first-- if a bit droll-- question from the bulky red-head to his left, the young man's blue eyes glaring down at him, short hair sticking up in all directions.  
  
"James Potter, speaking on behalf of Harry Potter." James smiles slightly, the expression showing that he knew just how unbelievable his statement was, even before Severus could snort from that overly large nose of his.  
  
"Funny, you don't look like a ghost," comes from the girl hovering above them, her arms crossed over her chest, face otherwise blank.  
  
"That's because he's not a ghost, Ms. Weasley," Snape snipes, still glaring at James.  
  
James sighs, shoulders rolling in a shrug. "Look. I know Harry's dead. Hells he lives in my bloody flat since Godric's Hollow was destroyed the night he showed up out of no where and took out the Dark Lord," He frowns, meeting Snape's eyes. The Slytherin had always claimed to know when he was lying. "I'm from the past and a seperate Reality... the ghost of Harry Potter saved my life-- probably would've saved Lily's too if I weren't such a pratt, but that's beside the point. He's been... well 'living' with me. Helping me out and I want to reciprocate."  
  
"Why would you help a ghost?" The first person who'd spoke asks, voice soft, eyes reflecting a lot of pain. He looked about the age Harry should be... if you ignored the years in his eyes.  
  
"Ron. Ignore him. He's just trying to get into the castle to do something horrible." Even the girl sounded unsettled.  
  
Swallowing, the auror shifts his gaze, meeting Ron's eyes. "I'd help a ghost because he's afraid to come home. But he so badly wants to know who survived. He apparently missed that part, being dead and all." He knows the last part would hurt, it was meant to. The pain might do the kid some good.  
  
The red-head recoils slightly, one of the others touching him lightly on the shoulder, but Ron shakes his head, "M'fine." he grunts, wand steadiness renewed.  
  
"You may be, but he's not. He's fading... and I'd really rather not have that." James sighs, tossing his hair, bored already. "Can we get on with the killing of me or whatever you do to people around here?"  
  
"We try not to kill anymore..." The voice comes from behind Snape and James blinks. Albus sounded... old. "And we certainly won't make an exception for you, James Potter."  
  
James grins, eyes flicking to Snape with an 'I told you so' expression evident. Merlin, how many years since he'd seen the man and he still had to provoke him and act like a third year? Very mature.  
  
Snape sneers, the wands lowering. Apparently he'd been cleared.  
  
"Hi Headmaster..." He smiles at the old wizard, wondering for perhaps the first time how old Dumbledor was... he looked about 300.  
  
The wizard nods, beckoning them all back inside as he turns, a staff helping him walk. "Come inside... we have much to talk about."  
  
The group nods collectively, making the dark haired Gryffindor graduate arch a brow, wondering how long these people had been staying up here... alone with their own paranoia as he follows them into the castle, the girl flying off to presumably finish makng rounds.  
  
James sighs, looking back over his shoulder before the heavy doors close. He had a lot of explaining to do.  
  
Ah well. He smiles to himself, it wasn't the first time.**  
**


	4. Clout

See previous chapters for disclaimer-type things.

* * *

It had taken some work, but he'd managed to convince all involved. He really was James Potter and the father of Harry Potter. And he really was from a dimensional offshoot.  
  
Harry'd explained it to him once, after a night spent in the library... but the Auror barely remembered anything more of the whole drawn out theory than 'different choice, different result, different existence'. He was fairly sure it involved rocks in ponds and ripples or something like that.  
  
They'd given him rooms. Guest rooms that looked disused, but were clean and the fireplace was warm. Not much to complain about, unless one wanted to consider the Weasley parked outside his room as a guard. Charlie if he wasn't wrong, and misremembering the name.  
  
So many people. So many plaques in the main hall comemorating people who hadn't made it. The biggest in the middle had been to Harry Potter-- the Boy Who Died Fighting. The drivel made his lips curl.  
  
Harry wouldn't want to be remembered like that. Maybe the boy was right an he was better off hiding in the past.  
  
Then he saw the pale boy almost hidden in Snape's shadow.  
  
He'd taken a double take. The young man-- not a boy as he'd first thought-- was delicate and frail looking... but beautiful like the last flower hanging on after the first frost.  
  
Silver eyes had lit with surprise, then dulled-- James wasn't who he'd thought he was... Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Harry'd only spoken of him once.  
  
He'd been in one of his resting modes-- he took them every week or so to 'recharge'. The ghost's tone had been soft, pleading, apparently dreaming. It had been startling, hearing the softness of the boy's voice, emotion obvious. He'd sat down, listening for more from the spectre... watching near see-through features for any sign of information...  
  
None had been forthcoming.  
  
But this boy looked like a Malfoy. Even if he did look near to breaking.  
  
"What have you been feeding him, Snivellus?" He sneers as Snape settles at the dining table, the boy on his other side. "Looks about half-starved."  
  
The Potion's Master doesn't respond, making James suspicious. So, being the Gryffindor he was, he simply plowed on, spending a few moments coming up with something else. "It's nice to see that someone isn't celebrating the death of the 'Boy Who Died Fighting'," he comments seemingly idly, drawing a glare of death from the PM and a blink from liquid silver eyes.  
  
He sighs, shaking his head. "Look guys, I just came here to see who survived the war for him. He wants to know before he fades out completely."  
  
The former gryffindor meets unyielding stares and growls, tossing his hands in the air and rising, deciding to make a stand. He was tired of sitting around and helping them rebuild already. "Why have I wasted my time here?!" HE huffs, shaking unruly hair and heading for the door.  
  
"If you people don't bloody well care, then I'll just--" he gasps, colliding with a person just entering.  
  
"James! Thank Merlin I found you!"  
  
The dark haired man blinks owlishly up at the dirty and rumpled visage of Sirius Black, "Why the hell are you here?!"  
  
"Because, James, I've just come from your home... Remus and I found Pettigrew... He.. he destroyed your flat." The auror and animagus frowns, holding out a hand to help his friend up. "And do you know how bloody hard it is to find you?! Hells man! If you were going to do something stupid like this you could have brought me and Moony with you!" 


	5. Containment

Dude... if you don't get it yet.

* * *

"Wait... Define destroyed."  
  
Sirius blinks, spoon pausing on it's way to his mouth. "Looks like one of those American tornados hit it. Front wall's gone, and everything's been riped apart. Your office is in shreds, looks like some sort of fight happened there." He shrugs, eating a bit more, "Funny thing, though. That ugly paper-weight of yours?"  
  
James nods, hoping that it was still fine. Wormtail had to have been searching for it. "What about it?"  
  
Sirius sifts through a robe pocket and pulls it out, the large orb a little scratched but none the worse for wear. "Color changed in it."  
  
A seeker's quick hand darts out, taking the ball, holding it up to the light. He was right... It had been a pale burgundy... James sighs, setting it down, picking up the faint silver wisps in it from the candles. "Odd, that."  
  
Long fingers wrap around the orb, lifting and turning it this way and that, reminding James of a muggle film about a girl who tried to get her little brother turned into a goblin or something that Remus had threatened to drag him to. "This, is an orb of Charontis,"  
  
The dour man frowns, shaking his head. "I only knew of one, and it disappeared from Nocturne two... three years ago, after Harry--" He blinks, shaking it slightly, making the silver swirl angrily, looking like disturbed sulphur gas before settling to the depressing grey/silver.  
  
Black eyes meet the brown eyes of the person next to him. "It isn't empty."  
  
James arches a brow, taking the ball and pocketing it. "Sirius... you didn't see anything else at my house, did you?"  
  
"No. But you need to come back, we've got problems." He swallows, pushing his bowl away, a gesture in how serious what he was about to say was-- if Black gave up food... "The Dark Lord's back. He's even been sighted."  
  
James stands abruptly, eyes wide, "Harry--"  
  
"Is fine. He's at the Burrow. There's been no sign of anyone even attempting to overthrow the Weasley might to get to your son."  
  
Several red heads up the table snicker, nodding in agreement of the mutual thought-- Fear Molly Weasley's Wrath.  
  
James swallows, nodding. "I'll come back... My work here was done anyway." The Auror gets up resolutely, pausing on his way to the door and coming back, handing the silvery orb off to Draco. "Hold onto that... Take care of it."  
  
Without another word he turns, going with his friend to fight a war they'd just finished. 


End file.
